


down, but brought up again

by Soft Shep (orphan_account)



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e04 Down, Friendship, Gender-neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Soft%20Shep
Summary: platonic reader/jesse self-insert fic. diverges from s2e4 Down! when jesse gets kicked out of his house, jesse instead comes and stays at reader's house instead.





	down, but brought up again

**Author's Note:**

> there aren't enough platonic reader insert fics out there, and definitely not enough gender-neutral ones, so here's this! it's my first self insert fic, so please be kind to me :') all i want is to take care of and comfort jesse pinkman

You nearly miss the phone ringing; for some reason, you'd left your cell on vibrate and hadn't heard it until it was nearly done ringing. Flipping it open, you look at the caller ID.

_ Unknown. _

The unfamiliar number leaves you a bit uncertain of whether or not to answer, but you answer it anyways, on the off-chance that it might be important. "Hello?"

"Y/N? Oh, thank god," answers the person on the other end. The somewhat gravelly voice comes with a tone of relief to it, and you immediately recognize it to belong to a friend of yours. "I've been tryin' everyone. Christ, I'm so glad you picked up."

"Jesse?" It's more of a rhetorical question, something half between a greeting and a question. Of course, you know who this is. "What's up, man? What's with the weird number you're calling from?"

You hear Jesse sigh on the other side of the line, a shaky sort of noise that raises a feeling of concern for the man. "It's a pay phone. Look, I can explain all you want later, but --- I need your help, yo. Like, stat. Can you do me a solid?" He sounds terribly urgent, in a way that only worries you more.

You don't think twice about answering, "Of course. Talk to me. I'm right here."

There's a pause, and for a moment, you worry that he might've hung up, but then he begins to speak rather frantically. "I need a place to stay for the night. All I'm asking for is a night, or two or three tops, I swear. I just--- I'm desperate as shit, Y/N. I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Jesse," you start, almost immediately after he stopped speaking, "It's okay, dude. Don't worry about it. Do you need a ride?"

There's an audible sigh of relief on Jesse's side. "No --- no, I'm good. I'll be right over." As he speaks, you can hear his voice cracking. "Thanks for this. I owe you one bigtime, yo, seriously."

"It's no problem," you reassure him, concern audible in your tone of voice. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay," Jesse says, and you hear the receiver click.

Closing your flip phone shut, you stare at your living room. It's really been a second since you've had any guests over, but now that Jesse's on his way, it seems like a good opportunity as any to tidy things up. Maybe Jesse's never been the king of neatness, given how his own house looks; he probably won't judge your mess, but having him over is at least a good prompt to clean up.

You start with your room, putting away some stray dirty clothes into a hamper and then moving to the living room, decluttering the end tables and your sofa. It's a hasty job cleaning up, but after a half hour or so, things look presentable enough.

Even after a half and hour, though, he's still not here.

Jesse really didn't give much of an estimate on when he'd be over, but it feels like a bit too long by the time an hour passes. Given the urgency in his voice, you would've expected him over sooner.

After two hours, you begin to worry. Sitting in your newly tidy living room, you pull out your cell phone and dial Jesse's number. You're left on voicemail. You dial again, and _ again _, there’s nothing.

So, you attempt to reach the payphone he called you on, in the event that he might still be there, wherever he was when he called you. Still, there's no answer.

By the third hour, it's dark outside and the knock on your door startles you half to death. You rush to open it, only to meet a rather weary looking Jesse Pinkman.

"Jesse!" Your own relief is palpable. "Dude, I was getting so worried." Your peer out the door, only to see no signs of his car, or even his motorcycle. Looking to your friend's face, you see the exhaustion and desperation in his eyes.

"I had to walk," Jesse simply states, and as you step aside to let him in, he staggers over to the nearest wall to place his hand upon it, stabilizing himself. He's worn out, so much that you can _ smell _ it in how sweaty the poor guy is.

"Jeez," you comment softly, closing the front door behind him. "What happened to your car?"

"It's_ gone, _" he rasps.

"What about your bike?"

"Some asshole jacked it, like, _ right _ after we called. It's stolen, yo, I didn't have any way of getting here."

You frown, instantly concerned, and place a gentle hand on Jesse's shoulder. "I'm so sorry." Looking to him, you glance at your couch before gesturing toward it. "Come on, man, have a seat."

It's not hard to get Jesse to comply with that. Staggering over to the sofa, he plunks himself onto the cushioned seat and throws his face into the palm of his hands. You're quick to notice what looks like a makeshift splint on one of his hands, his fingers taped together with duct tape and what looks like cardboard. Somehow, he got injured, and that detail concerns you.

You take a seat beside Jesse, frowning gently. "So, what happened?"

"So much," Jesse answers, his words muffled by his hands which he has yet to pry away from his face. "I got put out of my house for a bit, and I’ve got nowhere to sleep tonight.” He doesn’t elaborate much on that, though you get the feeling that there’s something more to his situation than that.

"That's gotta be so awful for you," you tell him, your words empathetic. You place a comforting hand upon his shoulder once again, scooting closer to him. He's shaking, and the closer you get, the easier it is to hear just how unsteady his breathing is. Opening your mouth, you're ready to speak, but you're not quite sure what to say.

"I'm sorry for crashing on you like this," Jesse tells you before you can say anything, filling in the gap that silence made between you. He runs his hands down his face, sighing in a rather drained manner. "It really does mean a lot, and I promise I'll be out before you know it."

"Jesse." You tip your head down to look him in the eye, if only for a fleeting moment as you speak. "You can stay here as long as you want, okay? That's what friends are for. I want you here, I promise."

He manages a nod, swallowing down a lump in his throat. "Okay." He looks like he's on the verge of tears, and the sight of him so overwhelmed and upset brings you heartache.

You realize now that you're not going to let him stay here without taking care of him. Jesse deserves to be _ pampered _ at least a little, after everything he's been through today. Even if you’re not entirely sure of the details of what happened.

"Can I get you something to eat?" You ask Jesse.

He nods, and quietly murmurs out a tired little, "Yes, please."

You head to the kitchen, opening up the pantry and looking around. There admittedly isn't a lot in stock, but you've got a box of rice that’s fresh and ready to cook. "Is rice okay?" You turn to Jesse, who's tiredly followed you into the kitchen. With the box in hand, you're sure to elaborate, "I can heat that up for you real quick."

"Totally," Jesse replies, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Rice is the bomb. Honestly, I'll, uh… I'll eat whatever." He's vaguely in better spirits, and he manages a scant smile for you.

So, you prepare some rice for Jesse, and you make sure to throw in seasoning to make it extra flavorful. You chop up and cook some vegetables to add to the mix as well. Soon enough, you're both sitting at the table together, having dinner.

Jesse lets out an almost euphoric groan when he takes his first bite. "Oh, fuck. Y/N, this is so good."

The dramatic response to your cooking gets a smile out of you. It’s nice to get that kind of praise. "Thanks, Jesse. I'm glad you like it."

"You're the best, yo," he tells you with his mouth full of food. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You end up encouraging Jesse to take a shower, and before he does that, you search for clothes that will fit him. Fortunately, you've got stuff he's left over from years of friendship and sleepovers. His sense of fashion, in an eternally youthful kind of way, hasn't changed all that much since you've met him. Handing over one of his outfits he left at your place -- _ clothes that have since been washed _ \-- Jesse accepts the clothing and heads over to the shower. You're left to your own devices, and you keep yourself busy with your regular activities while Jesse cleans up after walking so far.

When Jesse comes out of the shower, dressed in fresh and cozy oversized clothes, you offer him your bed.

"Are you sure?" He asks, brows knit together in concern. "I don't wanna impose, or anything. I feel like you're already doing enough for me, Y/N. I can just take the couch." For emphasis, he gestures toward your couch. Still, however, you shake your head.

"It's fine," you reassure him. "I'll get you some clean sheets." Maybe it seems like a lot of extra effort, but seeing Jesse so upset earlier has really motivated you to take care of him. He really looks like he needs it. Besides, it's been a while since you've changed your bed sheets, anyway.

"Well, obviously, I'm gonna help," Jesse lets you know. Knowing your house as well as he does, he heads over to where you keep your linens and grabs some fresh sheets for you. "That's, like, the least I can do. You're doing me a big favor already, yo."

You smile at Jesse, and in return he smiles back.

Once the bed is all ready, Jesse all but collapses into bed. He lays flat on his stomach, a mannerism you've noticed he's had over the years.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning then?" You ask him as you're heading to the light switch. But Jesse catches you, rolling over in bed and sitting up.

"Hey, Y/N. Wait."

"Yeah?"

Jesse's fidgeting with his hands, looking downward for a moment like he's hesitating. "I don't know how to ask this without soundin' totally _ lame _ or whatever, _ so… _" He winces, looking to you with nervous hesitation in his eyes.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it won't sound lame," you reply, walking back over to your bed and sitting upon the edge of it. Looking over Jesse, you're not entirely sure what he's getting at. "What's up?"

"Uhhhh…" Drawing out the noise, Jesse sits up a little more straight. "I was wondering if you might wanna stay in here. With me." He's growing increasingly fidgety, teeth clenched. "You know, 'cause you obviously shouldn't be the one sleeping on the couch."

That last part seems to be added for good measure, in case you decline the offer. Yet, you're perfectly content with the idea anyways, so you nod. "Sure."

"Awesome." Jesse claps his hands together, visibly relieved at the fact that he wasn't rejected. He holds his hand out for a fist bump. You give him a fist bump. "Right on. It'll be all like a sleepover and shit."

Letting out a small, amused laugh, you nod. "Just like a sleepover."

So, you climb into bed and cover yourself in the bed sheets, and Jesse lays there beside you. For a while, you just lay together, the only sound filling the air being both of your breathing. Rhythmic but slow. Calming.

Laying there with Jesse, you feel a sense of security and comfort. He's always been such a fun person to be around, with an absolutely contagious personality. At the same time, you know he's troubled, and to the extent of it, you're not sure. The only reason you know what he does for a living is because you met in the old _ Cap'n Cook _ days when he was particularly flamboyant about cooking meth. Lately, though, he's been much less talkative about that part of his life. You suspect something has shifted, that there might be some kind of darkness within, but you don't know for sure. Perhaps part of you is afraid to ask too much.

Fittingly, however, Jesse turns to you after a few passing moments of silence.

"I, uh… I didn't tell you entirely what happened today," he murmurs softly. There's a gentle look of apprehension on his stubbly face, his words spoken quietly. "There's more to it other than just losing my car and all."

Turning to Jesse, you tell him, "You can talk to me about it, if you want to." Not that you’ll pressure him or anything, but the least you can do is offer.

Taking a shaky breath, Jesse hesitates further. He runs his hand over the bed sheets until they're considerably ruffled up. "I got kicked out of my house today. My parents, they, uh --- they kicked me out. _ Again _." He's sure to add extra emphasis to the latter word.

"Oh, shit." Your eyes widen. "Why?"

"Well, apparently, I'm just a disappointment to my parents, or whatever." His voice cracks as he speaks, "They didn't want me livin' in my aunt's house anymore, I guess. Even though _ I _ was the one who took care of her every day. I _ once again _ totally failed to meet their expectations and be the… _ perfect, favorite son _."

"Jesus, dude. I'm sorry," you tell him, your words empathetic. As it is, you can hear the pain in his words; you know this can't be easy for him. "You and your aunt were so close. I know losing her was so hard for you. You kind of earned that house, didn't you?"

Jesse covers his face with his hands, dragging them along his tired features. "She wanted me to have it. She told me it herself. That house was like the last thing I had of her." Moving his hands away, you see that his eyes are filled with tears. "And it was, like, my _ house. _ Like, now I don't got anywhere to live."

You reach over to place a hand on Jesse's shoulder. "Hey, you've got me. However long it takes to get back on your feet, you can stay here."

For a moment, you meet Jesse's gaze, his blue eyes reddened and filled with tears. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Your fingers idly run over his shoulder in a slow and (hopefully) comforting manner. It takes you some time to answer, but you do so in a genuine and caring way. "I care about you, Jesse. Plus, I'm just happy to have you here."

Jesse appears to be holding back a sob. He nods, taking a deep breath and croaking out, "I care about you, too. You're a really good friend."

You pull him into a hug and, when given such comfort, Jesse begins to cry in your arms. Holding onto you, he hides his face in the crook of your neck. You rub his back, murmuring kind and gentle words and for a while, the two of you stay like this.

Eventually, Jesse settles down. It would seem that both the prior exhaustion and his tears have made him rather sleepy. He falls asleep in your arms, and you hold onto him through the night as you, too, fall asleep.

You wake up in the morning to find the bed empty, though the house is filled with the enticing and delicious smell of breakfast food. As you begin to get out of bed, Jesse returns with a plate of food for you in his hands.

"Yo, I made you some breakfast," he greets you with a lopsided smile.

You grin. There's no doubt that Jesse is a good friend as well.


End file.
